Sonnet J
By Gwion
To painful pleasures dancing up ahead, The choking, bound restrictions of our minds. We raise a toast to what our leisure finds: Our courting corpses stinking on a bed. To all the lies you've ever had to live, To save your selfish soul from certain fate: A rotting grave, a truth you've come to hate; Let's raise a glass to what you'd never give. Here's to my supple, sensuous body now, A testament to all I've ever had. Your twisted truths contrived to keep me mad And save my happiness from death somehow. The truth: a lie between two able minds; Inebrity become the tie that binds. Written July 2nd, 1999 © on Jan 18 2002 11:59 AM PST 0 • 8
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"To painful pleasures dancing up ahead,..."